Jamesy the True

I live above the boiler room 

The intermittent, mildly thunderous rumble 

Strangely soothes me

Fire in the belly of the building I live in 

Core of the heart of the skeletal structure within 

Reminds me to try not to forget 

To storm the gates of the docile 

The indifferent, the passive 

To embrace the recklessness 

Of this undernourished spirit 

The rambunctiousness 

Of this unsupervised wit 

And yes, to fuel the fire 

To take the road of Frost 

Less traveled by, the path that begs 

The legs to run, the head to spin, and the heart to race 

Rumi whispers, mischievously, from the embers: 

‘Run from what is comfortable, 

Live where you fear to live’ 

Thirteenth century wisdom lingers 

I live above the boiler room 

The warm wooden floor below me shivers 

Restless ghosts of future fervor 

Nestle into the boiler’s rhythm, and I am 

awake